Of Vending Machines and Night Clubs
by bubbleteadesu
Summary: A story of an unlikely friendship blossoming in the presence of a bright red vending machine and the realization of an even more unlikely romance in the midst of the bright neon lights and loud disco music of a night club.  Full Summary Inside!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Of Vending Machines and Night Clubs (a story in three parts)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Spain/Romano  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** AU (human names used) ; Lovino Vargas is an aspiring artist who struggles with the pressure of having a world-renowned landscape artist as his brother. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo is a jobless man, who enjoys living in the present (too much, actually) and takes life one step at a time. A chance meeting one winter night by a certain bright red vending machine leads to another and another until they form an unlikely friendship. One day, Antonio is offered a job as a bartender at his friend's bar and he asks Lovino to work with him there. As they begin to spend more time together, Lovino is confronted by Antonio's new feelings for him and his own feelings for Antonio. But, is he ready to accept them?  
**Warning:** Romano's and Prussia's cursing, kissing, very implied sex scene and every romantic cliche available to man. Also, 13,000 word monster of a fic. You've been warned.  
**AN:** written for the aph minibang event at livejournal (in case you're wondering, in a minibang, a writer and an artist collaborate to make a fanwork. the writer writes a 5000+ word fic and the artist draws a fanart for said fic. if you guys are interested to see my artist-partner's AMAZING artwork, feel free to visit my profile. the link's there :D). many thanks to Twilight Rose2 for beta'ing this!  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

_I._

It was a dark winter night at a certain suburban park.

Said park lacked proper maintenance, to put it mildly. It was poorly lit and the few benches scattered on the grounds were already rusty and in need of a fresh coat of paint. And the grass that grew there in tuffs was badly in need of a good mowing. The lawn was already more like a collection of short bushes than grass, with said grass almost reaching the knees of an average-sized man.

Sadly, no one minded the melancholy state of this park. It was, after all, located in the back alley of the city's night district. The rather seedy customers of the various nightclubs and bars nearby enjoyed the cover the tall and thick undergrowth had to offer.

Lovino Vargas minded though. You would too, if you had to pass through this sad excuse of a park to get to your apartment every single night.

Fortunately for him, the snow and the frost the harsh winter had brought with it prevented any barhoppers, and other nighttime vagrants in their right mind from frolicking in the grounds. (Though, if they were really in their right minds, they wouldn't even _think_ of frolicking in the grounds, winter or not.)

Unfortunately though, the thick snow made it extra hard for Lovino to pass through. Lovino trudged slowly through the sludge of snow and dirt, cursing every step of the way. And to make matters even worse, he had forgotten his gloves at home. His fingers were already starting to feel like icicles; they'd be frostbitten by the time he got home, Lovino was sure.

Somewhere in the distance, Lovino could see a brightly-lit structure he vaguely recognized as the vending machine.

The vending machine (which was happily working properly, thank goodness) had always been there for as long as Lovino remembered, out of place in the neglected park. He rarely noticed it but tonight, its presence seemed like a bright ray of hope in this gloomy frosty darkness.

Lovino tried to quicken his steps, as much as the thick snow allowed. If he did not reach the vending machine soon and get himself a warm drink, he was sure he'd fucking freeze to death in this godforsaken place.

Whenever a person uses a vending machine, it can be said that he has some control over his destiny. After all, whatever beverage he chooses is the only thing he will get.

But it seemed this was not the case for Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, at least not for tonight.

Because instant coffee was not the only thing the vending machine dropped after Antonio had pressed the correct button.

"_Wow…_" Antonio whispered to himself excitedly. He picked up the strange coin lying beside his coffee and inspected it under the moonlight.

"Probably a Mexican coin," he murmured to himself. "Though, I can't be sure-"

A loud (and seemingly irritated) cough interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey, mister." A muffled voice snapped. "Can you do whatever the fuck you're doing somewhere else? You're blocking the fucking vending machine."

Antonio turned around. A very annoyed young man stood behind him, half of his face covered by a plaid scarf. Only his eyes were visible and they were glaring furiously at Antonio.

"Sorry." Antonio murmured sheepishly. He picked up his coffee and shuffled quickly out of the way.

He watched as the other man dug through his coat pockets, his face growing redder and redder in apparent annoyance. "Where is that motherfucking wallet, goddammit?" the young man muttered to himself.

Antonio dug through his own pockets too. He still had some spare change left. Maybe-

He walked forward and inserted some coins into the vending machine. He could feel the other man's intent stare as he went on to press the correct buttons on the machine.

Antonio picked up the can of coffee the machine dropped and handed it to the other man. "Here." he offered with a grin. "Warm yourself up."

"No thanks." he muttered. "I don't need it." But Antonio knew, with the way the other man was staring at the drink, that he did _need_ it.

"Come on." Antonio insisted. "It's cold out here."

"Well, since you insist." The other man took the can (rather eagerly, to Antonio's amusement) from Antonio's hand.

Then he walked away, drinking the coffee as he left.

Antonio chuckled. "Well, that was strange." He threw his now-empty can of coffee in a nearby trash can and proceeded to walk away too-

-when his foot accidentally bumped against something on the pavement.

He looked down. It was a leather wallet, lying all alone on the frosty ground.

* * *

Lovino's wallet was nowhere to be found.

He had expected to find it at home but it wasn't there. And he was sure he had not accidentally overlooked it. His house was so fucking small that it was impossible to overlook anything there.

It wasn't in his school either. Lovino had to go through his classes without a proper lunch because of his lost wallet, making him even crankier the rest of the day. (He'd rather miss _anything_, just not a proper meal. And a siesta, of course.)

Lovino could only think of only one other place where he could have left his wallet. It was that cursed park, if you could even call that godforsaken place a park.

There was no way Lovino could find his wallet in the fucking thick snow. And even if it wasn't winter, he'd still have a hard time scouring for his wallet through the wild undergrowth. Looks like his wallet was lost forever.

Lovino sighed as he stood in front of the vending machine. At least, he still had some spare change left to buy a drink. Made accepting the fate of his damned wallet a little fucking easier.

"Excuse me, sir." A voice called, hesitating a little.

Lovino turned. "What?" he snapped sourly.

It was that stranger from last night. The one who had blocked his way to the vending machine then proceeded to buy him a drink.

Tonight, he was holding out something very familiar to Lovino.

Lovino snatched his wallet from the stranger's hand. Quickly, he browsed through its contents. Every single cent was inside, nothing missing. (Not that he had much, actually.)

"Don't worry. I didn't touch anything." The stranger told Lovino cheerfully, apparently not offended by his actions. "You're Lovino Vargas, am I right?"

Lovino looked up, surprised. "How did you know my name?" he asked, suspicious.

The stranger laughed. "I saw your ATM card while trying to look for something to help me contact you." He shrugged. "There was no other clue so I figured I'd just wait for you here."

(Well, Lovino didn't have to worry about the contents of his bank account. He had long since spent the monthly allowance his grandfather had sent him.)

Lovino narrowed his eyes at the stranger. "What if I didn't come back here tonight? What would you do then?"

The stranger looked shocked, as if he had only thought of that possibility now.

Finally, he shrugged and chuckled sheepishly. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't really think too much about future possibilities, you see. I guess you can say I take life one step at a time."

"That's fucking stupid." Lovino scoffed. He felt inside his coat pockets for his spare change.

The stranger stepped in line leisurely behind Lovino as he wondered what drink to choose. "Why's that so?" The stranger asked, genuinely confused.

"Because-" Lovino's words trailed off into silence as he realized that he honestly didn't know too. What's with this man anyway, asking such idiotic questions. "Because I said so!" he finally finished irritably.

Lovino could hear the stranger chuckling behind him as he picked up his soda. He turned around sharply. "Are you fucking laughing at _me_?"

"Don't get me wrong!" The stranger quickly clarified, grinning widely. "I just find you-" he paused, grappling for the right word, "-interesting, I guess."

Interesting didn't sound like a compliment to Lovino's ears and the dangerously sharp glare he sent the stranger told him so.

"Anyways," the stranger said cheerfully, deftly changing the topic, "My name's Antonio Fernandez Carriedo but you can call me Antonio for short. Figured I should tell you my name since I already know yours."

"What a fucking mouthful." Lovino muttered. At least he didn't have to mentally refer to Antonio as 'that fucking stranger' now.

He emptied his soda and tossed the can into the wastebasket. Then, making sure his wallet was securely in his pocket, he started to leave.

"Lovino!" Antonio called out behind him. "Will I see you here again tomorrow?"

Lovino paused in his tracks. He turned and narrowed his eyes at Antonio. "Why would you want to fucking see me again?"

Antonio shrugged (and fuck he was _beaming_ again. Lovino could swear he had never seen anyone smile as fucking often as this guy.) "I enjoyed the company, I guess."

Lovino couldn't see what was so enjoyable about a few snapped remarks from him and a few stupid remarks from Antonio.

But _sheesh_, whatever. He was going to pass by the vending machine tomorrow anyways, even if Antonio hadn't asked him to.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna pass by tomorrow." Lovino replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"R-really? That's great! I-"

"Don't act so fucking excited, stupid." Lovino snapped with a roll of his eyes. Seriously, this guy was one fucking idiot.

* * *

It was a dark winter night at a certain suburban park.

And Antonio was walking happily through the snow that covered its grounds.

He could see the vending machine in the distance, a bright speck in the darkness. He wondered if Lovino was already there (waiting for him, he hoped).

Antonio had to admit it was strange, even for someone like him who made friends easily, to actually look forward to seeing someone again after only two days of meeting each other.

They weren't even _good_ meetings, Antonio realized as he replayed them in his head. Lovino seemed to snap at him at every possible moment (and Antonio honestly couldn't see why).

But Antonio rather liked Lovino. Maybe it was because of his eyes, hazel and blazing with passion from above his plaid scarf. And there was nothing else that Antonio appreciated more in a person than fierce burning passion (even if it was spent directing cuss words at him).

Or maybe it was the way Lovino's face turned bright red, from the cold and from his inexplicable (at least to Antonio) annoyance at Antonio and everything he did. It reminded Antonio of a bright red tomato, honestly. And, well to put it simply, Antonio _loved_ tomatoes.

Antonio chuckled to himself as he continued his trek towards the vending machine. Yes, he was really looking forward to seeing Lovino again.

* * *

"What took you so fucking long?" Lovino greeted Antonio sharply.

"Sorry." Antonio replied guiltily. "Did I make you wait long?"

(And Lovino realized belatedly that asking someone '_What took you so long'_ somehow implied that you were waiting for said someone. This was totally _not_ what Lovino wanted to imply.)

"Of course not!" Lovino snapped back hotly. "What makes you think I'd fucking wait for you, idiot. I just happened to be faster that you that's why I'm here earlier." He leaned casually on the front surface of the vending machine and sipped his coffee (his fourth one, in fact).

Antonio bought himself a can of coffee too and leaned on the vending machine beside Lovino, completely blocking its front (future customers be damned. Not that there would be any, actually.).

They stood like that for quite some time, in somewhat comfortable silence, sipping their drinks.

It was Antonio who decided to break it.

"So Lovino," Antonio asked casually. "Where do you live? Near here, I suppose?"

"Why?" Lovino asked sourly. "Planning to fucking stalk me or something?"

"Of course not!" Antonio replied, chuckling. "I'm just curious. You always pass by here and I've never seen anyone else come to this park as often as you."

"You're always fucking here too." Lovino pointed out.

"That's because I live near here." Antonio explained. He pointed towards the night district, neon lights behind a smoky haze. "I live in one of the apartments there."

"I live there too." Lovino said simply. They settled into silence again, until Antonio decided to ask another question.

"What do you do for a living?" he asked before completely draining his coffee.

"Why do you ask so many fucking questions?"

"I want to know more about you, Lovino!" Antonio insisted.

"You go first then." Lovino replied. "I'm busy here." He made a show of pulling out an aluminum foil-wrapped pizza from his backpack.

"Okay." Antonio agreed. "I don't have a job." he said, beaming with so much pride that Lovino almost wanted to laugh.

Instead, he spluttered out: "What? How do you fucking _live_?" Lovino could barely live on the monthly allowance his grandfather sent him.

"I'm not completely _jobless_." Antonio explained, laughing. "I take odd jobs here and there, like delivering newspapers, feeding cats, stuff like that."

"And besides," he added, "this is just some sort of, uhmm, _phase_, for me."

"Still part of your 'I take life one step at a time' motto, I assume?" Lovino said dryly.

"I used to have a tomato farmer phase, back in Spain." Antonio murmured wistfully. "I was surrounded by tomatoes everyday so I thought I wouldn't wish for anything more. But, after years of toiling over tomatoes, I realized I wanted to do something else, something more than tomatoes. So here I am." He finished, beaming widely at Lovino.

"You'd rather be a fucking bum than be surrounded by tomatoes _all the days of your life_." Lovino stared at Antonio liked this was the single most scandalous statement he had ever heard in his life. "_How could you?_"

"I didn't know you liked tomatoes too, Lovino!"

"I don't just like them. I _love_ them." Lovino threw his empty can of coffee and crumpled up foil into the wastebasket. Then, he grabbed Antonio by the arm and harshly pulled him along.

"L-Lovino, what are you doing? You haven't answered my question yet!"

"Shut up! You have to pay for your blasphemy against tomatoes by treating me to a good spaghetti dinner at a _genuine_ Italian restaurant. Understand it, bastard?"

* * *

They ended up at Lovino's apartment.

"Be careful!" Lovino called out behind him. He could hear the creaking of the stairs as Antonio gingerly stepped on them, maneuvering his way through the narrow staircase.

"Tsk." Lovino muttered to himself as he stood in front of his apartment door, whitewashed with paint peeling off at parts to reveal distressed wood underneath. He began to fumble inside his coat pockets for his keys.

Soon Antonio was there too, standing behind him. "Why didn't you tell me you didn't have any fucking cash on you?" Lovino snapped at him.

"I tried!" Antonio replied, raising his hands defensively. "But you kept muttering something about tomatoes and I couldn't get a word in!"

Lovino turned and narrowed his eyes at Antonio. "Then, what are you still doing here? Planning to leech your dinner off me?"

Antonio looked confused. "When I did finally get a word in, you still refused to let go of my arm so I figured you were going to treat me to dinner instead."

"You were the one who refused to let go of my hand! Don't fucking turn the situation around, bastard."

(Antonio had been positive that it was Lovino who was holding on to him the whole time. Well, he wasn't so sure now.)

Lovino sighed. "Well, it's not like I can still do anything about your presence. You're fucking here so might as well let you in."

"Really? Thank y-"

"Shut up! I might fucking change my mind if you don't." Lovino inserted his keys into the hole and opened the door.

* * *

It was no surprise to Lovino that Antonio went straight to the bean bags. That fucking bum of a bastard.

Lovino's apartment lacked space and he had decided to replace the usual coffee table-and-couches setting of the living room with patched-up bean bags. It was more economical that way too.

And Antonio seemed to be extremely comfortable in them. He was currently buried in one bean bag, looking absolutely contented.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Well, since you're looking so fucking comfortable already, I'm going to go get us some dinner."

"Thanks Lovino!"

"Hmmph. Fucking leech." Lovino muttered under his breath. Still grumbling, he stalked off towards the kitchen.

* * *

Lovino's apartment was nothing exceptional.

Yes, it was quite small but Antonio's apartment was around this size too.

There were two doors, one smaller than the other and Antonio assumed they lead to the bathroom and bedroom respectively.

The living room led directly to the kitchen and from his comfortable position, sitting on a bean bag, Antonio could see Lovino rummaging through cupboards.

Very typical apartment set-up, Antonio thought. Probably the reason why he immediately felt comfortable in the house of a practically-stranger.

Probably another reason was the bean bag he was lying on. Because, unlike the rest of Lovino's apartment which was very typical, Lovino's living room was nowhere near typical. For one, instead of the usual sofas and center table, Lovino's living room had bean bags. Lots of bean bags. (Around five of them actually)

And Antonio realized, as he looked around from his very comfy bean bag, that furniture was not the only thing not-so-typical with Lovino's living room. There was also an unusually large number of painting materials scattered about on the floor too.

There were canvasses, with paintings differing in levels of completion. There were brushes, stiff with paint, oil paint tubes squeezed out of shape and palettes stained with color. Frankly, it looked like an artist's workshop.

It probably really was an artist's workshop.

* * *

Lovino wanted to eat pasta.

But he couldn't find anything else but instant noodles and cans of beer in the kitchen.

He sighed as he placed two cups of instant noodles and several cans of beer on a tray. They'll have to do, he guessed. (And Antonio better not fucking complain about the food. Not that Lovino was actually sure he would.)

Lovino stepped out of the kitchen and found Antonio admiring a familiar looking canvas.

Antonio's back was facing him and Lovino could only catch glimpses of the painting but he only needed a short glimpse to know what it was. It was his work, after all.

It was a painting of a sunset turning to dusk, furious shades of orange and red blending with velvety purple and blue. The sunset overlooked a red vending machine, proudly standing in the midst of tall undergrowth and wild grass.

_Lovino thought it was one of his best works. Proudly, he submitted it to his professor._

_His professor eyed it with a dismissive air. "Impressive work, Mr. Vargas."_

_And Lovino beamed with pride. Maybe, one day, he could make it big in the art scene too._

_That same afternoon, Lovino overheard his professor tell his colleague: "-a shame. I mean Lovino Vargas' works are impressive but I'd always expected him to have the same masterful…technique as Feliciano Vargas. They're brothers after all._

_Lovino would have killed them right then and there, the laughing gleeful bastards. But then, it would have been useless._

_He'd still be in his brother's shadow._

The warm soup that splashed from the bowl of noodles to his fingers shook Lovino from his thoughts.

He walked towards Antonio and set the tray on the floor loudly. Then he sat beside Antonio, picked up a cup of noodles and began to eat.

Antonio turned and showed the painting he was holding to Lovino excitedly. "This painting's so _beautiful_. Don't you agree, Lovino?"

Lovino slurped his noodles loudly. "That's just fucking trash."

"How could you say that Lovino?" Antonio exclaimed. "I'm sure you wouldn't buy a painting that's trash."

"Do I look like I can fucking afford a painting?" Lovino replied, rolling his eyes. "I painted that."

"So you're an artist?" Antonio asked excitedly.

"Let's not talk about it." Lovino replied curtly.

And that was that.

* * *

Several cans of beer later and it was Lovino who brought up the topic again.

"Even when I was still a kid, I knew that all I wanted to do in my life was to be a painter, d'you know that?" Lovino slurred. "But goddammit, I didn't have the fucking talent for it."

"No talent?" Antonio exclaimed, shocked. "How can you _say_ that?" He pointed to the canvasses on the floor. "Do you think just anybody can create artworks like that? Well, I know I can't."

Lovino emptied his current can of beer and reached for another. "Say, Antonio, have you heard of the name, Feliciano Vargas?"

Antonio paused, thoughtful. "I can't say I have." he admitted. "Am I supposed to know him?"

"Figures." Lovino muttered. He took a swig of his beer. "Feliciano Vargas,' he told Antonio, "is one of the most promising landscape artists today. The art world is watching him, waiting eagerly for whatever masterpiece he would come up next. He's currently touring Europe, last I heard."

"Ah well," Antonio said sheepishly. "I'm not really well informed about the art scene. I see a painting, I admire it and that's it. Besides, why are we talking about him anyways?"

"Well," Lovino replied matter-of-factly, "He's my brother."

Lovino waited patiently as Antonio made the connection in his head. "So that's why you have the same surname!" Antonio exclaimed. "Vargas and Vargas."

"Yep, he's my brother." Lovino said. "Younger than me by a year. And he liked painting as much as I did. But, unlike me, painting was as natural to him as eating, as breathing."

"So one day," he continued, "my grandfather came for him. My grandpa, you see, was a fucking art genius. He could paint, he could sculpt, and he was a damn good architect too. And he chose Feliciano to be his protégé. Several years later, Feliciano returned home and became a landscape artist. And a fucking good one at that. And he was what, thirteen?"

"But!" Antonio interrupted. "That's unfair! Why teach him but not you? You both wanted to be a painter."

"It seemed unfair at first." Lovino admitted. "But I realized that Feliciano had the potential to follow my grandfather's footsteps while I didn't have it. I'm actually lucky my grandfather decided to support my decision to study art at the university." Lovino emptied his beer and slammed the can angrily on the floor. "Feliciano's the master while I'm just a fucking dreamer."

Lovino realized that his surroundings were starting to get blurred. "Oh _fuck_." he wiped his misty eyes with the back of his hand. Goddamn, he hated it every time he got teary-eyed whenever he was wasted.

"You can cry on my shoulder, you know." Antonio offered softly.

Crying on the shoulder of someone you've literally just met could be difficult and embarrassing, especially for the person doing the crying.

But Lovino realized, as he began sobbing on Antonio's shoulder, than it came easily when you were drunk.

He could always pretend he didn't remember a thing the next morning.

* * *

The noonday sun shone its rays through the window.

Lovino shifted as he felt the warmth hit his face. He tried to open his eyes but the light blinded him every time he tried to do so. Plus, it made his fucking monster of a headache even worse. (His head felt like ten thousand bulldozers were ramming through it, dammit.)

So, eyes squeezed shut, Lovino remained on his back.

Whatever it was he was lying on certainly wasn't his bed. His bed may not be the softest, most comfortable thing in the world but Lovino was sure it wasn't this hard and cold. His back was already aching all over, dammit.

He was most probably lying on the floor. He wondered how he got there.

Lovino vaguely remembered eating his dinner and drinking beer on the floor. And talking a lot, though what he was talking about he couldn't exactly remember. Nor who he was talking to.

Well, it would probably be easier to think, Lovino decided, if he was standing up.

So, eyes still stubbornly shut against the sunlight, Lovino sat up.

Or at least, _tried_ to. Because something was pressing him down.

Lovino froze. And it felt like someone's arm was draped right over his bare stomach.

His eyes flew open. Squinting against the blinding light, he glanced sideward.

Antonio was there, sleeping beside him on his back, his arms and legs spread outwards like a starfish, wearing only a pair of gaudy tomato boxers. One arm lay right across Lovino's stomach.

And Lovino (he just realized), was wearing nothing but a blanket draped right across his lower torso.

Now, sleeping naked was nothing new to Lovino. It was actually how he slept, every night.

But sleeping naked with a stranger who was wearing nothing but tomato boxers (and no, Lovino was _certainly_ not staring at said stranger's lean and tan stomach, thank you very much) was a different matter all together.

"GET OFF ME, YOU BASTARD!"

* * *

Antonio was surrounded by tomatoes.

And not just any normal tomatoes, mind you. No, they were plump, juicy, _life-sized_ tomatoes. The whole space was filled with tomatoes, in every direction, as far as Antonio's eyes could see.

It was tomato heaven.

Antonio clapped his hands gleefully. He tried to wrap his arm around a nearby giant tomato-

-when the still air of tomato heaven was suddenly broken by a shrill cry.

"GET OFF ME, YOU BASTARD!"

* * *

Antonio's eyes flew open. Instead of tomatoes, his eyes met a ceiling, its plaster cracked and peeling.

Slowly, he turned to his side. His eyes then met another pair of eyes, hazel and very _very_ furious.

"Didn't I tell you to fucking get off me?" Lovino said through gritted teeth.

Antonio moved his arm off Lovino. He couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. "I honestly thought a tomato was talking to me."

"What kind of stupidity is that?" Lovino muttered with a roll of his eyes. Antonio watched as Lovino, without sitting up, deftly tied a blanket around his waist.

Then, very carefully, so as not to loosen the knot, Lovino sat up.

"Sit up, bastard." he barked.

Antonio assumed that he was the 'bastard' being referred to (though he honestly couldn't see why) and promptly sat up.

Lovino jabbed a finger against Antonio's chest "Tell me what the _fuck_ exactly happened last night."

Antonio scratched his head and tried to remember last night through the haze of sleepiness and hangover.

"Well," he began slowly, giving Lovino a confused look, "we ate dinner, had a few beers. Then we started talking and you told me things about your life like how you wanted to be a painter-"

"I didn't tell you anything embarrassing, did I?" Lovino's tone dared Antonio to say yes and face the consequences.

"Well," Antonio replied, uncertain, "I'm not really sure if the things you told me were embarrassing for you but they weren't for me, honestly."

Lovino took a deep breath (Antonio had the impression he was trying to hold back his temper). "Alright, alright, let's cut to the fucking chase, shall we? How the _hell_ did we end up sleeping _naked_ together?"

"I'm not exactly naked." Antonio pointed to his boxers.

"But what if you were at some point last night?" Lovino's voice was getting higher, almost hysterical. "What if something happened to us, between us without you knowing fucking _anything_? I swear to god I'm fucking killing you if something did happen, bastard. And don't you fucking pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Relax, okay?" Antonio was getting more and more confused by Lovino's strange behavior (but then, who was Antonio to decide whether Lovino was acting strangely or not? Who knew, maybe Lovino acted like this after every late-night drinking session). He laughed sheepishly in an attempt to calm Lovino's nerves. "Seriously Lovino, you're acting like a virgin."

The fist hit him before Antonio even knew it was coming.

"Goddammit, _bastard_." Lovino spluttered out. "What gave you the fucking idea? Just explain what happened before I strangle your fucking life out of you."

"Alright, alright!" Antonio rubbed his aching cheek. "I'm sure I can explain this, just wait a bit."

For the sake of Lovino's sanity, Antonio tried to remember last night through his (mild) hangover and dazed-from-sleep senses. Somehow, he could catch glimpses of last night's events. It was looking good.

"Well?" Lovino said impatiently. "I'm fucking waiting."

"I remember last night!" Antonio chuckled. "Well, sort of actually; it's still kinda hazy."

"Anyways," he narrated, "You were really _really_ drunk last night so I tried to carry you to your room. But then, you started throwing up all over my shirt so I had to leave you here for a while so I could wash my shirt in the sink. Which reminds me, I'm so sorry about your sink! I'll clean it up later, I promise!"

"Get back to the story, idiot." Lovino snapped.

"Sorry." Antonio replied meekly. "Anyways, when I came back from the kitchen, you were already naked and sleeping soundly. So I covered you up with a blanket (I swear, I didn't peek!). And since it was really warm here in your living room, I decided to just sleep in my boxers." He grinned at Lovino. "See? Nothing to worry about."

"I actually remember I slept pretty far from you." Antonio added helpfully. "So I don't really know how I ended up right beside you."

Antonio waited as Lovino remained silent, as if processing everything Antonio narrated in his head. "Are you sure about all this?" Lovino finally asked doubtfully.

"Positive." Antonio replied solemnly. "I won't take advantage of you even though I do find you cute."

"Don't say embarrassing things, you idiot!" Lovino exploded, his face turning scarlet.

(And Antonio couldn't help but feel giddy over how _cute_ Lovino looked as he blushed.)

* * *

Afterwards, Antonio asked Lovino if it was alright if he asked for some breakfast please? The nerve of the bastard.

Lovino pointed him towards the kitchen. "Don't touch the pizza in the fridge or I'll fucking choke you."

"I won't touch it, don't worry." Antonio assured him cheerfully. (How could he stay so fucking _happy_? Didn't he have a fucking hangover? Lovino's head felt like it was about to split in half and his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.)

As soon as Antonio was out of sight, Lovino had some time to look for his clothes among the scattered beer cans and cups of noodles, and to reflect on the rather shitty events of the morning.

He should have known, from the moment he saw Antonio, that the bastard was going to give him headaches (and not just alcohol-induced ones). Fuck it, why did he even agree to meet up with Antonio last night?

"Well," Lovino thought as he picked up his shirt and pants from the mess on the floor. "I can still remedy this problem."

All he had to do was to stop meeting up with Antonio, starting today.

Easier said than done, Lovino mused as he quickly pulled his shirt over his head and zipped up his pants, but he had to try, if only for the sake of his sanity.

He had too many problems already. He didn't want to add another one in the form of a certain Spanish bum.

As soon as he was dressed, Lovino ran out of the room and out of the apartment building.

* * *

His morning (or noon) may have been ugly but Lovino's afternoon looked like it was taking a turn for the better.

Especially now that Lovino spied a very pretty lady, with chocolate brown curls and round dreamy eyes, walking towards him while carrying several bags of groceries in her arms.

Lovino walked (or rather, glided) towards her and smoothly took her burden in his arms.

"Thank you." she murmured, bowing her head apologetically.

"It's nothing, _bella_." Lovino replied. "Pretty hands such as yours should never be made to work hard."

"By the way, I'm Lovino." he added after a while, "What's your name, _bella_?"

"Beatrice" she replied shyly.

"Such a beautiful name suits you." Lovino couldn't help feeling pleased as he observed Beatrice blushing (looking quite pleased herself).

They walked on together and for all her initial shyness, Beatrice proved to be a very lively woman. They engaged in energetic conversation.

Lovino wondered where he should take Beatrice for coffee. Or maybe he could treat her to a good Italian dinner (that is, if his budget allowed it).

"Lovino!"

Lovino froze. _Goddammit_, just when he thought his afternoon was going so well.

"Hey," Beatrice nudged him, worried by his sudden silence. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry, _amore_." Lovino replied hastily. "By the way, I know this really good café round the corner. We can grab a few drinks and talk all we want there. What do you think?"

But he was too late. Lovino felt a warm hand grab his shoulder tightly. "It is you, Lovino! I didn't expect to find you here."

"What the hell are you doing here, Antonio?" Lovino asked through gritted teeth.

"I delivered some groceries to a house near here." Antonio replied cheerfully. "One of my odd jobs."

Antonio turned to Beatrice. "Ah! Why didn't you tell me you knew such a beautiful lady?" (Lovino rolled his eyes and thought: "Why should I tell you? I just barely met you!")

He took her hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry, lovely _señorita_, but is it alright if I borrow Lovino here for a while? I really need to talk to him."

"Oh it's alright." Beatrice replied, surprised. "I don't mind, really."

But _I_ mind!" Lovino spluttered out.

Antonio took the bags of groceries from Lovino's arms, ignoring Lovino's furious curses and protests. (Unfortunately for Lovino, Antonio was much much stronger than him.)

"Sorry, _señorita_." Antonio told Beatrice, sheepishly handing her back the bags. "I'll make it up to you one day, I promise! You can ask for me at the grocery store if you need someone to help carry your groceries. I work there part time. Alright?"

Beatrice nodded, still a little stunned.

"Well, it's _not_ alright with me!" Lovino exploded angrily. "What do you think are you fucking doing?"

But Antonio grabbed Lovino's hand, and with one last apologetic smile at Beatrice, quickly pulled him away.

* * *

It was sunset nearing dusk, and there was still enough light left for Lovino to see where Antonio was taking him.

They had already entered the oh-so-familiar godforsaken park but, surprisingly, they only walked past the vending machine.

"Where are you fucking taking me, bastard?" Lovino demanded angrily.

Antonio glanced at Lovino and winked. "Don't worry, we're almost there."

"Dammit." Lovino muttered. "I was on a fucking date, you know."

"I know." Antonio chuckled. "Didn't know you were such a ladies man, Lovino. You know how to make those women fall for you. I mean, the way you stared intensely into that _señorita's_ eyes. No sane lady can refuse that."

"How the hell did you see that?" Lovino spluttered out. (But then, he couldn't help feeling rather pleased. He always couldn't help but feel good when someone complimented his flirting style. It was the only thing he was good at, he honestly believed.)

"Anyways, we're here." Antonio announced in a sing-song voice.

"Well?" Lovino said impatiently after a while. "We're still here in the fucking park."

"You're not looking." Antonio chided patiently. "_Look_."

And that was when Lovino saw it.

It was a huge tree, branches gnarled and twisted upward towards the quickly darkening sky. But it was not like any other old tree.

Because this tree was lighted up by a million specks of light, somewhat like a Christmas tree. Except much more breathtaking.

"W-what's that?" Lovino asked, amazed.

"Come." Antonio pulled him along excitedly.

As they moved closer towards the tree, Lovino saw that it was lighted up by fireflies, moving quickly in between the tree's gnarled branches. Lovino had never seen these many fireflies before. There must have been a hundred of them here.

"I saw that tree, lit up by all those fireflies, right before I accidentally met you." Antonio told him. "I told myself that I wished I knew a painter who could paint me this scene. And then I met you by the vending machine. And when I found out that you were studying to be a painter, I thought 'This must be fate!'"

"But a while ago this morning, when I came out of your kitchen and I saw that you were gone, I panicked. What if you were mad at me for sleeping beside you almost-naked, for that foul joke I cracked this morning, for whatever reason that I didn't know? I haven't even shown you this yet! So I walked around aimlessly, feeling depressed. And then, when I came out of the grocery store, there you were!" Antonio grinned at Lovino triumphantly. "And I thought, 'Here was fate again, giving me another chance!'"

"First things first, I don't believe in fate. That's bullshit. Second," Lovino's voice grew fainter as he felt more and more uncomfortable, "I-I wasn't mad at you, okay? Just because I felt like leaving my apartment doesn't mean I was angry or anything like that."

_Well, I was annoyed at you or probably irritated. Because you brought in my simple life complexities that I don't fucking need. And you have a way for making me tell you the truth, even though we're practically strangers. Because, goddammit, I now remember what I told you during last night's drinking session: my whole fucking life story, dammit. So yes, I was annoyed at you. But not now, not anymore. Not after this…_

They watched the fireflies flit around the twisted branches of the old tree in silence.

"Hey Lovino." Antonio finally said. "Can I ask you something?"

"If you're going to ask me to paint that then no, I fucking won't"

"That's not my question but _why?_"

"Because I can't. You'll just be terribly disappointed."

"Yes you can." Antonio looked at him meaningfully. "You can paint that tree better than anyone else, if you just believe you can."

It might have sounded cheesy if anyone else had said it (and Lovino would have laughed in their faces) but there was something about Antonio's gaze that almost made Lovino believe in himself.

Instead, he changed the topic. "If that wasn't your question, then what is it?"

Antonio grinned at him. "Lovino, can we be friends?"

Lovino would later blame his decision on the influence of a certain old tree brightly lit by a hundred moving stars.

"We can be _acquaintances_." Lovino replied.

"Really? That's great!" Antonio enveloped Lovino in a tight embrace.

"Get off me, dammit!" Lovino protested breathlessly.

"Sorry." Antonio said sheepishly, letting go of him. "I have another question though."

"What?"

"Can I call you Lovi?"

"No, you fucking can't."

"How about Lovinito?"

"That's worse, you bastard."


	2. Chapter 2

_II._

The answering machine beeped, signaling Antonio that there was a message left for him. It hadn't done that quite some time.

Curiously (and somewhat excitedly), Antonio opened the message.

_"Hey Antonio, it's me Francis. Gilbert and I are planning to open this bar soon and well, do you still remember those mad bartending skills you showed at Ibiza? Well, we need those. Badly._

_Also, why don't you ever keep in touch anymore? Gilbert and I miss our good times together. Well, this is probably getting too long so bye for now! Reply as quickly as you can!"_

_Beep_

Antonio grinned. He did still remember Ibiza. They had some crazy times there, didn't they?

Why didn't he ever keep in touch anymore?

Antonio picked up the receiver and dialed a number.

* * *

Today marked the start of winter break.

If today was like the past starts-of-winter-break of Lovino's life, he would have cut through the park as quickly as he could, thick snow and wet boots notwithstanding, so he could get to his barely-warm-but-at-least-warmer-than-this-goddamn-snow apartment.

But today was not like the past winter breaks of Lovino's life. Hell, the past two, three weeks were nowhere near the other weeks of Lovino's life.

For one thing, instead of rushing home, Lovino found himself being drawn towards a familiar red vending machine right smack in the middle of the park.

(No, Lovino didn't want to go there, dammit; his feet were dragging him _unconsciously_. And it was now too late to break the habit.)

Lovino stopped in front of the now-familiar structure, his breath coming out in foggy clouds. Someone else, now also very familiar to his eyes, was already there, nursing a can of coffee.

He turned and caught sight of Lovino. "Hey Lovi!" he called, waving excitedly at him.

"How surprising. You're actually earlier than me, Antonio." Lovino greeted back stiffly. (Most other days, Lovino would chide Antonio furiously for calling him Lovi but really, it didn't change anything. Antonio was too fucking stubborn. And stupid, at that.)

"Yes, I am." Antonio replied. He tossed Lovino another can of coffee. "That's because I have something to tell you."

Lovino caught it cleanly. "I need to tell you something too, actually." Yes, he had to tell Antonio that he won't be passing by the vending machine anymore, at least not until winter break was over. He owed him that, at least. Lovino was planning to just stay home throughout the break, maybe finish some paintings. Or maybe he could get a job; his landlady was planning to raise the rent again and he had a lot of bills that needed to be paid badly. His grandfather's monthly allowance was just not enough.

"You go first then." Antonio offered.

"Nah, it's alright." Lovino opened his coffee. "It's not that important anyways."

"Ah, well, alright!" Lovino watched curiously as Antonio rummaged through his coat pockets. He tried hard to hide his amusement as Antonio pulled out several candy wrappers, old receipts and some coins.

"Here it is!" Antonio announced triumphantly. He pulled out an overly-creased flier and handed it to Lovino.

Lovino opened it, trying his best to straighten the creases. It was a flier announcing the opening of a nightclub, simply called _The Bar_.

He narrowed his eyes at Antonio. "Why are you giving this to me? God forbid, are you fucking _asking me out_?"

Antonio laughed. "No, nothing of that sort."

Lovino wanted to slap himself for thinking such foolish thoughts, and actually saying them out loud dammit. Instead, face still burning, he stammered out:

"What are you showing this for, then?"

"That's my friends' new business venture." Antonio explained. "I'm going to work as a bartender there and they asked me whether I knew anyone else willing to work as a waiter for their bar. And, well, I thought, 'Well, why not Lovi?' So I told them I knew someone and that someone is you" He finished with a huge grin.

Lovino stared at the flier in his hands, with the flashy design and promises of free-flowing booze and entertainment.

Lovino hated to admit it, but he had never actually been to a nightclub before, partly because of lack of funds and partly because of his conservative Catholic upbringing.

But the more Lovino stared at the showy flier, the more Lovino wanted to try the job. It wouldn't hurt to try; he was just going to be a waiter, wasn't he? And besides, he had all these bills that needed to be paid-

Lovino looked up at Antonio.

"When do I start?"

* * *

Lovino stared at the neon-lit sign, flashing two simple words to the night crowd: The Bar.

Lovino had thought the name reeked of lack of creativity the first time he saw it on Antonio's flier. But the more Lovino read it over and over again, the more he found it surprisingly sophisticated in all its simplicity.

Antonio had texted him to come at seven. Lovino checked his watch; it was just six-thirty.

Well, Lovino thought, arriving early had advantages. For one thing, he'll have time to mentally prepare his senses for the bright lights and loud music all nightclubs were known for, elements of the nightlife he wasn't really sure he was ready for.

Lovino took a deep breath and opened the door. Here goes-

Immediately, all plans of preliminary reflections and mental preparations flew out of the metaphorical window. Because as soon as Lovino opened the door, his senses were in for a shock.

His eyes were immediately blinded by the bright neon beams flashing throughout the dance floor and breaking through the general dimness of the area. His ears met drum-splitting club music, deafening and mixing with the loud chatter of the people. And the air smelled of beer, cigarette smoke, sweat and the occasional whiff of strong perfume.

And the bastard told him to come at _seven_. The place was already full for chrissake.

"Hey you!"

Lovino turned. The voice came from a figure standing by the doorway, with the whitest hair Lovino has seen for a man of that age. (But then, it could just have been because of the contrast the general darkness offered.)

"Me?" Lovino pointed to himself (and felt rather stupid while doing so).

The figure laughed. "Yes, you. Are you Lovino Vargas?"

Lovino nodded.

"That's great!" The other man strode towards him and grabbed his arm roughly.

"Hey!" Lovino snapped. "Let go off my arm! I can fucking walk by myself, you know."

"That's true, punk." he shot back, "but then, I'll risking losing you here in this sea of people. By the way, I'm Gilbert, awesome co-owner and head waiter. Not that there are a lot of you people to lord over. There's just you and two other casual employees. Oh and you're late kid."

"First off, I'm not a fucking kid. Second, Antonio told me to come at _seven_. It's just half past six."

Gilbert waved his other hand dismissively. "Can't trust Antonio with time, you know. You tell him to come at five, he'll come at eight"

"Have to thank Antonio for making looking for you easier though." he added.

"How?" Lovino couldn't help asking curiously.

Gilbert made a poor imitation of Antonio's voice. "Oh Lovino? He has this little curl on his head that defies gravity; it's so cute you have to see it. And his face always looks like a little tomato; it's so _adorable_."

Goddamn, that bastard! What's with these fucking cutesy-cutesy descriptions of him?

"Anyways," Gilbert said, "we have to hurry. There's a party going on out there, kid, and we need you to start working!"

* * *

Lovino had been working for several hours now but he still felt uncomfortable in his uniform.

The collared buttoned-up shirt was a little too tight for him and itched horribly. The black vest he wore over the shirt made the already-humid room even warmer. And his bowtie was fucking strangling him, dammit. He was so tempted to pull it off and fling it across the room.

Lovino busied himself with scrubbing the tables clean and comforted himself with the thought that the club was about to close anyways. The crowd of customers had already thinned and there were only a few loiterers scattered around, finishing their drinks.

Some of these customers were a group of females by the bar, watching Antonio mix some cocktails for them.

Lovino had to admit that Antonio was pretty good at what he was doing. He shifted the mixer cleanly from one hand to another, never failing to catch it. Sometimes, he would show off and throw the mixer backwards, still managing to catch it smoothly from behind him. The ladies seemed to love these tricks and would clap gleefully, _More, Antonio, more!_, and Antonio would do it again, obviously loving the attention.

"Hey there, punk!" Gilbert grabbed Lovino's arse playfully, making him jump in surprise.

"F-fuck off!" Lovino spluttered out angrily. "What'd you do that for?"

"Stop staring and start working!" Gilbert laughed. "Though I can't blame you if you'd rather stare at Antonio's beautiful ass."

"I wasn't staring at that, goddammit!" Lovino turned away and started scrubbing the table furiously.

Gilbert pulled out a chair and sat to watch Lovino. "I don't know what those ladies see in Antonio. I mean, look at me! I'm way more awesome than any other person in this room."

Lovino scrubbed the table even harder. "Shut up. I don't fucking care."

Gilbert smirked at him. "You're _jealous_, aren't you?"

"_Jealous_?" Lovino stared at Gilbert, horrified. "What gave you the fucking idea? You're the one who's jealous here, don't fucking turn the situation around."

"Jealous, me? Of course not! Correction, I'm just _wondering_ why those ladies are not attracted to my awesome magnetic presence instead. But you, you're feeling some serious jealousy over there; it's written all over your face, kid. And you're not even jealous Antonio's the one getting all the attention from those pretty ladies, no," Gilbert paused, as if getting ready for one hilarious punch line. "you're jealous because Antonio's not paying any attention to _you_."

Lovino resisted the urge to smother Gilbert with his dirty rag. First day of work and he already wanted to chop his employer to pieces. How fucking nice.

"Anyways, get back to work, kid." Gilbert stood up and playfully slapped his behind again before walking away.

"Jealous? Jealous my ass." Lovino scrubbed the already-clean table even harder.

Lovino tried to ignore the far-away laughter of the female customers by the bar and Antonio's laughter, standing out among them with its rich warm timbre. He tried to ignore the urge, the need he felt inside him to join their company, to watch Antonio's hands move quickly but skillfully, almost mesmerizing to Lovino's eyes, as Antonio went about his work. He fought the want to be there, to stand among Antonio's audience, to watch Antonio as he worked, to just be _there_.

Lovino scrubbed the already-clean table harder, furiously fighting these feelings, shoving them to the back of his head, certain that they weren't true, blame Gilbert for placing these feelings in his head with his silly accusations.

Because he was not _jealous_, dammit.

* * *

"Ow, ow, ow, _ow_!"

Francis paused and set aside the antiseptic. "Well, Lovino, you wouldn't be in this awful predicament if you only had the sense to get the broom from the kitchen instead of picking up those glass shards with your bare hands."

"I'm sorry, okay? The glasses fell off the table and I panicked and before I knew it, I already had fucking cuts all over my hands. Which reminds me, I don't have to pay for those glasses, do I?"

"Sorry, Lovino but there's no such thing as a free lunch nowadays. I'll have to get the payment from your first salary." Francis turned Lovino's hands over. "It's a good thing you only have negligible cuts. Can't have my employees working with injured hands."

Francis was the other owner of the bar, and unlike Gilbert, he liked working in the background, more specifically in his office upstairs. (Lovino had seen some lady customers visiting him up in his office for some _business matters_. What business they discuss is up to anyone's guess.) Lovino didn't feel comfortable around Francis. Call him racist, but Lovino was just never comfortable around Frenchmen, that's all.

But when Francis saw the cuts on Lovino's hands and beckoned him to his office, quick, Lovino didn't really have any choice. He didn't trust Gilbert to treat his wounds properly and Antonio…well, he wasn't ready to face Antonio, not now, not while Gilbert's stupid accusations and his conflicting feelings still played inside his head.

Francis picked up the bandages from a nearby table. "Jealousy really makes one do insensible things, hmmm Lovino?"

Lovino narrowed his eyes at Francis. "Don't fucking tell me…Gilbert told you I was jealous of Antonio and those female customers, did he? That bastard."

Francis quirked an eyebrow. "Picking up glass shards from the floor with just your bare hands is pretty insensible."

"But I swear, I wasn't fucking jealous!" Lovino spluttered out defensively. "I do pretty insensible things in my life without reason. And besides, I don't fucking care about Antonio. The bastard can do whatever the fuck he wants with his life."

Francis laughed. To Lovino's surprise, he leaned forward, as if preparing to divulge a secret.

But instead, Francis closed the distance between them, landing a short, chaste kiss on Lovino's lips.

"F-fuck you!" Lovino spluttered out, hastily clapping a hand over his mouth. "What did you do that for?"

"Sorry _mon cher_." Francis replied. "I only did it because I find you…interesting. It's been a long time since I met someone as passionate as you." He resumed bandaging Lovino's hand.

"Just because you're fucking French doesn't mean you can just go and kiss people like it's nobody's business." Lovino tried to stand up but Francis pulled him back down.

"Look." Francis told him. "Stay for a while so I can finish bandaging your hand. Plus, I'll tell you something _interesting_ to make up for the kiss I stole.

"I can bandage myself, thank you very much." Lovino stood and walked towards the door.

"It's about Antonio." Francis called after him. Lovino froze, his hand wrapped tightly around the doorknob.

He tried to turn the knob and open the door but _goddamn_, his attention was caught now.

Lovino returned to his seat. Francis did not try to hide the amused smile playing on his lips.

"Knew you'd be interested." he said with a small chuckle. "It's an open secret anyways so it's fine, I guess. Knowing Antonio, he just didn't find the need to tell you."

Francis picked up Lovino's hand and added the final touches to the bandaging. "You see, Lovino, Antonio's not attracted to the opposite sex."

Lovino stared at Francis. "Are you sure?"

Francis laughed. "Of course. I've known him since we were teenagers. Look, this can work two ways for you. If you weren't jealous then this is probably just another juicy detail of Antonio's life that I hope was worth knowing. But, if you were really jealous then there's no need to worry now; those girls don't stand a chance." He sighed dramatically. "Those poor ladies! I would have given them a romance they would never forget if they just gave me a chance."

Lovino stood up. "Thanks for bandaging my hand." he said curtly.

"Just one other thing." Francis said. "I bet I'm not the first one to find you interesting now, am I?"

"Antonio said that to me once too." Lovino replied, wondering where this was headed to.

"Well, I think Antonio's starting to perceive you as much _much_ more than that." Francis looked at him intently. "You do know what I mean, do you."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lovino asked slowly.

"Well, if he decides to start acting on his feelings, and you don't think you return them, then _please_, don't lead him on. He's my best friend; I don't want him to get hurt." Francis chuckled. "Knowing Antonio though, it would be hard to just simply lead him on. He just never gets it."

"Thanks for bandaging my hand." Lovino muttered.

"Be more careful, next time, _mon cher_!" He heard Francis call out after him before the door completely closed.

Lovino walked away from Francis' office with a more confused mind (and heart) than before.

* * *

Antonio wanted to walk home with Lovino at the end of their first night working together at the nightclub but Lovino still had a lot of tables to be cleaned and work to be done.

So Antonio found himself alone that night.

The night was already shifting to dawn, pink and orange streaks cutting through the vast purple sky. It was a pretty sight and as Antonio watched it, he realized that did not want to go home, not now, not yet.

And at this exact moment of realization (or maybe a little while later, give or take), Antonio caught sight of a row of apartment buildings, old and weathered.

Antonio knew this place. He had only been here once but it was a place that was hard to forget (maybe because at the back of his mind gnawed a wish to be invited here again).

He grinned to himself. Briskly, he walked towards one of them.

Antonio hoped Lovino wouldn't mind him crashing in his pad for a while.

* * *

It was only when Antonio was in front of Lovino's familiar door that he realized that he couldn't get in because he didn't have a key.

Antonio sighed and sat down in front of the door, knees hugged close to him. Well, he could always wait for Lovino and hoped that he wouldn't kick him out of the building (his last visit wasn't exactly pleasant for all parties after all).

Soon, Antonio felt his eyelids getting heavier. Maybe, Lovino wouldn't mind if he slept here for a while…

Somehow, his drowsy mind registered a light nudge on his back and a surprised _oh_. He jumped up, equally surprised.

Antonio's surprise grew upon seeing someone standing by the doorway.

He would have mistaken the other man for Lovino; they had almost the same features after all, if it weren't for the bright albeit sheepish smile playing on this other man's features. It was very much unlike Lovino's perpetual frown. (Antonio wondered if Lovino would like this too if he just smiled much more often.)

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The other man apologized profusely. "I didn't notice you by the door. Did the door hurt you that much?"

(Antonio couldn't help noticing that even this man's voice was milder than Lovino's.)

"No, no, it's alright!" Antonio hastily replied, rather embarrassed himself. "I shouldn't have sat by the doorway in the first place."

The other man beamed. "That's great!

"I-I mean," he quickly clarified, "it's great that you're not hurt or anything like that."

They laughed awkwardly.

"Hey," the other man said shyly. "You must be Lovino's friend, right? I'm Feliciano, his brother."

* * *

"Wait for me here. I'll go get us some coffee." Feliciano led Antonio inside.

Antonio quickly walked to the living room and buried himself in one of the familiar patched-up beanbags.

He looked around him. His surroundings weren't as messy anymore, very much unlike the last time he was here. Lovino's canvasses were leaning against a wall in the corner, arranged neatly by height. And his other painting tools were nowhere to be found, probably kept somewhere else, where they should be.

"It's neater now, isn't it?" Feliciano said from behind him. He set two steaming cups of coffee in front of Antonio and sat down beside him.

"You two must be so different from each other, hmmm?" Antonio murmured before taking a sip of his coffee.

Feliciano giggled. "A lot of people have actually told me that before. I'd like to think he's the better one though."

"Really?" Antonio set down his coffee and stared at Feliciano. "Lovino once told me he thinks you're better than him or at least something like that."

"But honestly, I think he's so much better than me." Feliciano murmured. "Lovino has always stronger than me in everything. And I honestly really admire him for that. He knows how to take on the world while I just let it sweep me with it." Feliciano grinned at Antonio. "And as for his artistic skills, well, geniuses have always been discovered late in their careers, you know."

Antonio laughed. "You know, sometimes, I honestly don't know how to handle your brother. He's like…" He motioned with his hands. "…a fiery chili pepper."

"Oh wait! I have something to show you." Feliciano stood up suddenly, almost knocking over his coffee.

Quickly, he walked over the canvasses by the wall and rummaged through it. Finally, after a while of searching, Antonio heard him exclaim a soft but triumphant '_aha!_'.

Feliciano walked towards Antonio, carrying a small canvas. He set it on Antonio's lap facing down and grinned at him expectantly.

"Turn it over quick!" Feliciano said excitedly.

Antonio turned it over. He gasped.

It was a painting of a familiar old tree, with twisted branches pointing towards the sky. All over the branches were fireflies, hundreds of them, like stars that have come down from heaven. Antonio could almost see them fleeting in between the branches, in and out, in and out.

It was unmistakably the tree he showed Lovino, the night they decided to be friends.

But that wasn't all. Because Antonio immediately recognized himself in the painting, standing underneath the tree and looking up to it. His face was partly visible and Antonio could never imagine himself looking so calm and thoughtful. What was even harder to believe was that Lovino would paint this scene, would paint _him_.

"Shhh…don't tell _fratello_ I showed you that." Feliciano whispered, giggling. "I saw this a while ago while cleaning up and when I saw you, standing by the doorway, I knew immediately that you were the man in that painting."

"B-but, how-"

Feliciano tapped a finger to his head. "Who knows, Lovino probably painted this all from memory. What I do know is, for him to paint you, you must be someone really special to him."

He smiled at Antonio. "I've always waited for Lovino to find someone special to him too." He took Antonio's hands in his own . "Please, make him happy, keep him happy always! He deserves it."

Antonio couldn't tell Feliciano that there must have been a mistake, that he probably wasn't anything more to Lovino than a friend.

But then, did it really matter? Because honestly, Antonio knew from the start that Lovino was special to him.

"I'll make him happy, I promise."

* * *

Antonio met Lovino on his way out of the building.

Lovino narrowed his eyes at him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Antonio grinned. "I wanted to surprise you by crashing in your apartment for a while but I forgot that I didn't have the key to it. Good thing your brother was there and let me in."

"My brother…_Feli_? What the fuck is he doing here?" Antonio couldn't help noticing, amused, the pleasant surprise barely hidden underneath Lovino's annoyed tone.

"He cleaned your house for one thing." Antonio replied.

"_He did_? Fuck." Lovino ran towards the building, leaving Antonio chuckling behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

_III._

It had been almost two, three weeks, since Lovino started working as a waiter for The Bar and somehow, he had gotten used to the lifestyle.

He had gotten used to sleeping most of the morning then waking up in the afternoon to work on some school projects and unfinished paintings.

Then, early in the evening, Lovino would get ready for work. He had already gotten used to the white buttoned-up shirt and black vest that comprised his uniform (but he would never ever get used to that fucking bowtie that seemed so intent on strangling him).

Lovino had also gotten used to Feliciano observing him closely as he prepared for work, asking so many questions. "Are you sure you're fine with this job? You're always out so late at night, _fratello_!" Feliciano would ask every single night. And Lovino would automatically answer, "Yes, I'm fine, Feli. Besides, winter break's almost over anyways; I'll quit my job once school starts."

(Honestly, Lovino didn't mind Feliciano's persistent questions that much. He knew he'll miss the company once Feli went back on tour again.)

Lovino wasn't jarred anymore, when he reported for work, by the bright lights and loud sounds of the nightclub, the crowd of people pressed together dancing to one beat, the scent of liquor and cigarette smoke in the air. His senses had gotten used to those by now.

Without even thinking about it, Lovino would approach Gilbert, wherever the bastard was, as soon as he stepped inside. Gilbert, with a smirk and a playful slap on his arse (Lovino swore he would never fucking get used to that, goddammit.), would inform Lovino of his duties for the night.

And as Lovino busied himself with work, he had learned to catch himself when he found himself watching Antonio by the bar, mixing cocktails skillfully, never without that carefree smile on his face.

(But sometimes, Lovino would find himself still watching, and staring. Because there were just some things you couldn't help doing.)

* * *

Lovino sat by a table near the bar, wiping a rag on the table absentmindedly.

Only a few customers remained now, most of them female customers who were standing by Antonio, chatting with him as he made them some drinks.

_You see, Lovino, Antonio's not attracted to the opposite sex._

So what? Lovino didn't fucking care. He didn't care, didn't care, didn't care.

"You don't care about what?"

Fuck. Was he saying that out loud?

Lovino turned. Gilbert stood behind him, with a grin and several cans of beer in his arms.

"N-none of your fucking business, idiot." Lovino stammered out.

"I see. Still harboring feelings of jealousy after all this time, huh?" Gilbert teased. He sat down beside Lovino and pushed a can of beer towards him. "Here. Drink to your sorrows or something like that."

Lovino eyed the can suspiciously. "Is it alright? I mean, I'm technically still at work."

"So?" Gilbert was already chugging a beer, his feet resting on another nearby chair. "If the awesome co-owner of this bar says you can drink then you fucking can. Cheers!"

* * *

The next thing Lovino knew, he was flirting with this lady with alluring blue eyes and a sexily husky voice. He also vaguely remembered kissing another lady with an amazingly-gifted bosom.

Gilbert was hooting behind him, empty cans of beer littered all over their table.

And Antonio, Lovino could see from the corner of his eye, watched them while wiping his work counter clean, an amused smile playing on his lips.

(Lovino would later wonder about this, but at that moment, he wanted _so hard_ for Antonio to show some other expression other than a fucking smile. Something much more violent, like annoyance perhaps, or something like…jealousy.)

* * *

Lovino flinched as Antonio held an ice pack to the quickly-coloring bruise on his cheek.

Antonio chuckled. "You should've asked her first if she was taken before kissing her."

"It didn't fucking enter my mind, okay?" Lovino snapped, annoyed both at said lady's boyfriend punching his face and Gilbert's hearty roar of laughter afterwards.

They sat quietly in the empty locker room for a while, as Antonio patiently held the ice to Lovino's cheek. Every now and then, Antonio would punctuate the silence by humming a cheery tune unfamiliar to Lovino's ears.

Lovino wrung his hands on his lap, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "Why didn't you do anything?"

"Hmmm?"

The words spilled out of Lovino before he could stop them (damn that alcohol). "Francis, he said I-I'm more than just _interesting_ for you. Well, if that's true then why didn't you do anything while I was kissing that girl? I mean, her boyfriend fucking punched me in the face because I was kissing his girl. Why didn't you…why didn't you feel…" Lovino looked down on his hands, still firmly clasped on top of his lap. "J-just forget this, okay? I don't fucking know what I'm saying."

"What did you want me to do?"

Lovino looked up. He wondered when Antonio's face grew that husky, or when and how did his face get so fucking near?

Then, before Lovino fully realized what was happening, Antonio brushed his lips against Lovino's.

It was almost a kiss but it was, in no way, a kiss. It was full of hesitation, as if Antonio didn't know whether he was doing the right thing or not. It drove Lovino crazy.

Before Antonio could move away, Lovino pulled him back and kissed him furiously. Now, _this_ kiss was nowhere near perfect; it was messy, off-center, raw.

Lovino never realized he wanted this, needed this badly. Not until now.

* * *

It was a night of contradictions.

As they lay intertwined, bare and naked, on the cold stone floor, Lovino felt that he had never been this warm in his life.

And as Antonio moved, discovered every part of his body, every minute detail, every filament of his being, Lovino felt that all that they had discovered of each other from all their nightly conversations by the vending machine was nothing compared to this night.

Lovino had never felt this intimate to someone, this _exposed_.

And as he watched Antonio sleep beside him, arms wrapped protectively, almost possessively, around him, as he listened to his own heart ramming painfully against his chest, Lovino wondered if it was possible to hope something would never end, and regret that it ever even happened.

* * *

We know, as sensible human beings that not all we desire will eventually be given to us in our lifetime, at least not without sacrificing something in return. So when we do get these desires, easily at that, we always assume that it's all too good to be true. It can't be true, it's just a dream, a wild fantasy, an alcohol-induced illusion.

(Maybe because, once faced with the realization of this desire, we are not sure, never sure if this is what we wanted after all.)

Lovino woke up that morning, fully expecting last night to be just a dream.

It wasn't.

* * *

Lovino ran out of the nightclub, out into the snow-covered streets. He planned on running away, running running running.

But luck didn't side with him.

His foot landed on a particularly slippery patch of ice on the street (he wondered how it got there, dammit) and he would have skidded down the path if he hadn't clung on a street post for dear life.

He could hear footsteps from behind him, faster and faster then coming to a halt several distances behind him.

"Lovino!"

"L-last night," Lovino said breathlessly, "was just a lie."

He could hear Antonio exhale sharply behind him. "Why…how-"

Lovino felt his hands shaking; he clung to the post more tightly. "Because I was fucking drunk, okay? I'm sure I didn't know what I was doing because I was so fucking wasted." Lovino heard himself laugh, hollow, forced, almost hysterical. "I mean, there's no other reason. Last night wouldn't have happened if I wasn't drunk, I'm sure of that."

"But it wasn't a lie to me."

Lovino whipped his head back sharply. Antonio stood behind him, looking forlorn, almost helpless.

"W-what do you mean?" Lovino asked softly.

"Because," Antonio took a deep breath. "…I love you."

Lovino felt his chest tightening, felt his breath rush out of him. No, no, no, Antonio was lying, it can't be true.

Lovino did what he always did at a time of deep crisis; he ran away, stumbling down the snow-covered path.

* * *

Antonio walked back to the vending machine. It was what he did, every night, ever since he arrived here in this town and started living near the park.

All Antonio used to do when he passed by the vending machine was buy a drink, observe his surroundings until he finished his beverage and then walk away. All that changed when he met Lovino.

Now, every single night, Antonio could look forward to seeing Lovino's brightly flushed face, to hearing him talk animatedly about his day (though their conversations was always peppered with curses), to just being with him.

Antonio didn't know if he could still look forward to that now. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, maybe, if he hadn't said anything, nothing would've changed. He shouldn't have yearned for anything more from Lovino than friendship. But he had, and now everything was gone.

Antonio reached the vending machine. There was a sign hanging from it: _Out of Order; Under Maintenance_.

The vending machine was broken, just like his heart.

* * *

"But, _fratello_, why did you run away?"

Lovino had reached his apartment, his whole body shaking, tears streaking down his face. He must have looked like such a mess, because Feliciano panicked when he saw him.

He pulled Lovino quickly towards his bedroom and made him sit down on the bed. Then, after bringing in two cups of steaming hot tea, he made Lovino narrate everything that happened, right from the start.

"But _fratello_," Feliciano insisted again, "why did you run away?"

Lovino stared down at his tea. "I-I don't know."

Why indeed? Was he scared? Yes, he was scared. But why? Was he scared to fall in love with Antonio because…because he was not someone of the opposite sex? But then, why was he so scared to fall in love with a man? It can't be because he was scared of burning in hell for eternity; he can't be scared of hell anymore, not after all that he had done in his life.

Was he scared because Antonio fell in love with him after such a short time? Because a love like that can't be true; hell, his family had known him ever since he was born but they hadn't really shown their love for him (well, that is, except Feliciano). If they couldn't bring themselves to appreciate him, even while being around him right from the start, then how can someone who've just met him barely a month ago just…fall in love with him?

Or was he simply scared to fall in love?

"Lovi" Feliciano interrupted his thoughts gently.

"Feli," Lovino tried to stop his voice from shaking; he didn't want to worry his brother even further. "What should I do?"

"What do you mean 'what should I do?"" Feliciano replied, "You've already made a choice by running away. I mean, how else do you think will Antonio interpret that?"

"But, Feli, what if I made the wrong decision. I mean, I panicked when he suddenly confessed to me. I honestly thought he was just fooling around with me because it can't be true! But now…what if I was wrong after all?" Lovino buried his face in his hands. "I fucking don't know anything about this love thing! How did you know that you were in love? That that potato bastard really loved you?"

Feliciano giggled. "It's the first time you've ever acknowledged that Ludwig loved me! I'm so happy, _fratello_. But, when I first found out that Ludwig was in love with me, I probably looked like you too: an absolute mess. I was all alone, which made things even worse. But then I realized, Ludwig made me happy. And I wanted to make him happy too. And I soon realized that all I had to do to make him happy, to make myself happy, was to give this love Ludwig offered me a chance."

"I told Antonio once that I wanted him to make you happy forever." Feliciano looked at Lovino intently. "But, Lovi, how is he going to do that if you don't let him? How is he going to do that if you don't give him a chance, if you're so intent on mistrusting him right from the start?"

* * *

Lovino arrived at The Bar early in the afternoon the next day.

Francis and Gilbert were there, sitting on one of the tables near the middle of the room. They were having a rather serious conversation and didn't notice Lovino until he was right beside them.

"Oh, you're rather early today." Francis said with a small smile. Lovino couldn't help noticing that Gilbert pointedly ignored him.

"I have something to give you." Lovino handed Francis a white envelope. Francis raised an eyebrow and quickly opened it.

"You're resigning." Francis said, his eyebrow still raised at Lovino. "Don't tell me this is because of your tiff with Antonio."

"It's not because of that." Lovino shrugged. "Winter break's almost ending and I won't be able to work here anymore, not with school and all that."

Francis sighed. "First a bartender and now a waiter. How are we going to keep this business going, Gilbert?"

"Wait." Lovino interrupted. "A _bartender_? Antonio resigned _too_?"

"Don't act like you fucking care!" Gilbert spat out. "You fucking broke his heart yesterday!"

Lovino opened his mouth to reply but Gilbert cut him off. "Yes, I know. I saw you two out there yesterday."

"Look," Lovino said helplessly. "Don't fucking confront me anymore about this okay? I don't know anything about this fucking thing called love!"

"Then, you've come to the right place." Francis replied smoothly. "You see, I consider myself quite an expert when it comes to love."

(Lovino couldn't help noticing Gilbert rolling his eyes behind Francis.)

Lovino pulled a chair beside them. "Then explain this fucking thing to me."

"I would if we had the time." Francis replied. "But you see, Antonio's leaving for Spain soon. Like really soon. Like right now."

"_Right now_?" Lovino jumped up. "How the fucking hell did that happen?"

Gilbert tried to say something but Francis clapped a hand to his mouth. (Lovino wondered what that was all about).

"Well," Francis said dramatically, "what do you expect? You broke his heart, what else does he have to live for here?"

"B-but, he can't!" Lovino spluttered out. "Not before I figure out this whole fucking thing!"

"Look," Francis told him. "it's simple, okay? If you think you can imagine life without Antonio then good for you! Antonio was wrong in thinking his feelings had a chance. But if not then-"

"-what the _hell_, are you still doing here?" Gilbert finished from behind Francis. "Run after him, kid!"

* * *

Francis spinned an empty bottle of beer on the table. "I see, you're starting to get more perceptive, Gil."

"Look," Gilbert said. "I don't know why the hell you told Lovino that but I do hope you know what you're doing."

"Of course I do!" Francis said with a smile. "I'm quite the expert in love, after all."

* * *

It was only when Lovino was out in the streets that he realized that he didn't know where the hell he was supposed to go.

His feet pushed him on, led him on unconsciously, until he was standing in front of a familiar bright-red structure.

It was the vending machine. Lovino read the sign hanging from it; it was out of order.

"Goddammit!" Lovino punched the vending machine, over and over again, until his hand throbbed painfully, until his eyes watered.

Goddamn Antonio! Goddamn Antonio for always making him jealous, for kissing him crazy, for making love with him in way he could never ever forget, for confessing to him unexpectedly, then suddenly leaving him all alone with all these confusing feelings bubbling inside him.

Goddamn himself, Lovino thought. For not realizing that when someone confesses to you, all the doubts inside your head should just fly out of the window, that it if someone confesses to you then you should just _believe_.

Goddamn himself for not realizing that he actually did love Antonio, that he probably did love him from the start. But how was he supposed to fucking _know_, when he had never felt like this before?

And now it was too late. Antonio was gone and Lovino was left with nothing but an extremely painful hand and a lot of conflicting feelings.

"Lovino!"

Lovino froze. Before he could turn back, Antonio was beside him, taking Lovino's hand in his own.

"What did you do to your hand?" Antonio exclaimed. It was only then that Lovino realized that his hand was actually bleeding.

"We have to go and get your hand treated." Antonio tried to pull Lovino along but Lovino stopped him.

"Goddamn you!" Lovino tried to punch Antonio but his hand fell weakly on Antonio's shoulder instead. Lovino grabbed Antonio's shirt instead, hanged on for dear life.

"Goddamn you!" Lovino tried to stop himself from crying but it was no use; the tears just started falling down uncontrollably. "Why are you fucking going to Spain? After you confessed to me, after _everything_-"

"But Lovino," Antonio interrupted, chuckling. "I'm not going anywhere."

Lovino stared at Antonio. "You're not?"

Antonio shook his head. "I'm not. I don't know where you got the idea but I'm not."

"B-but, Francis, Gilbert…_goddammit_." Lovino spluttered out several Italian curses as the realization slowly dawned on him. "They _fucking_ tricked me."

Antonio laughed. "Look, I know the vending machine's broken but you shouldn't have punched it. Look, your hand's all wounded now."

Lovino wiped his tears with the back of his uninjured hand. "Don't fucking treat this as a joke! I-I honestly thought that you were leaving…that I won't be able to tell you-"

Lovino's voice drifted away into silence.

"Tell me what?" Antonio asked softly.

"T-that I, that I…" Lovino looked down, blushing furiously. "Dammit, this is hard for me okay? But I-I think, I like you too."

"You do?" Antonio beamed at Lovino.

"Don't fucking look at me like that!" Lovino spluttered out, even more embarrassed. "But I swear, you fucking gave me a lot of problems. You shouldn't have kissed me first before confessing to me, for one thing. Learn to do things in the proper order, you idiot!"

Antonio grinned at him. "But it's not too late to start all over again, is it? _Properly_, this time."

He let go of Lovino's hand then held out his own hand to Lovino. "The vending machine's broken so would you like to have coffee with me at the café round the corner instead? It's a nice start in my opinion."

It was, Lovino had to agree. And Lovino knew, as he took Antonio's hand, that he was agreeing to more than just an afternoon over coffee. No, he was agreeing to give this new feeling called love a chance.

_end_

_

* * *

_End Note:

So ahem. This fic. Took me a total of four freakin' months to write this. It was difficult and all and honestly, I felt like giving up halfway through. But I finished it and I'm glad I did. This is my longest fanfic for any fandom so far and I can't help but feel proud \o/. Hope you guys like this even if it's slice-of-life-ish and kinda plain and a little plotless(?) orz;.


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